


Juno Steel and the Eye of the Storm

by ser_atlantisite



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Doctor of Xenoarchaeology PhD, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other, Peter nureyev but this time he's a legit archaeologist, more like Evy O'Connel, no suave all nerd, not a thief
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28827663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ser_atlantisite/pseuds/ser_atlantisite
Summary: This time he grabbed Nureyev by his tweed scruff. “What are you doing?!” Juno hissed.“Scouting the way!”“But I’m the one with the gun,Professor.”“And I’m the one withthe plan, Detective!”+Detectives falling for Thief Fatales is all well and good, but how about a world where Peter was the Mousy Expert Consultant and Juno was falling for him all the same
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	1. Part 1: the Lead

**Author's Note:**

> Set in a world where Peter embraced his love of history and discovery. He still ends up on Mars and enmeshed with the Martian relic conspiracy, but in a different way.
> 
> Also I took the fact that Juno sounded happier in that birthday Rita minute and clung to the idea that he had good days before season three and flirting with a cute doctor gave him a better week than canon look its my au lmao. this is set between Day that Wouldn't die and Midnight Fox.
> 
> thanks to alina pluto and amdis for betaing.
> 
> cw's at the end notes

_ “Detective? It’s Pete—er, Doctor Nureyev. I couldn’t find much, well anything at all, really, on that… matter you asked me about, but I did find… well other things. Related, things, that I believe you would be very much interested in. Call me when you get a chance.” _

Dr Peter Nureyev hadn’t sounded nearly so nervous when Juno had met him. Well, alright he had been confident until he’d actually caught up to Cecil’s big Monster Of The Halls  TM that he’d insisted they investigate, “for science”. Juno still had the scars. 

And the nightmares.

Some of the smartest people were truly also the dumbest.

But he knew ancient artifacts, and after both the mask and the pill, Juno figured he should call him up. For the case, no other reason. Mick had even told him just yesterday that he should ask for help. So he did, from the smartest person Juno had ever met since Rita. And clearly, whatever Dr. Nureyev had found had spooked him.

Else, he really just thought ancient history was exciting and wanted to share it with Juno. That thought… it filled Juno with a warm fondness. Nureyev had gotten this, glint in his eye in Croesus Kanagawa’s show room, this giddy little smile and flush to his cheek, lighting up like the stars on a really clear night. The way he’d looked at Juno, talking a mile a minute and excitedly taking his hand, dragging him around the room and rambling on about everything he saw…

It made him hell of a lot nicer than most people he consulted, was all.

It also meant that he didn’t deserve any of the shit he’d been dragged into since before he’d even arrived on Mars. Some asshole thieves ‘borrowing’ his credentials the day before he arrived and using it to carve a bloody swath to the Death Mask of Grimpoteuthis, had been the tip of the sand-berg. The Kanagawas had wanted the mask released into Dr. Nureyev’s custody for inspection and ‘safe keeping’. Juno had said no. Someone had nearly blown up the P.I. registry getting the mask out of it. If Juno had let him have it, he’d be dead.

And here Juno was, trying to pull him right back into this mess because he wanted another opinion.

Though, checking up on the doctor to make sure no one had gone after him again had to be a good thing. His civic duty, really.

He was already dialing the doctor’s number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Professor. It’s Juno. Uh, Steel.”

“Detective!” There was a smile in Nureyev’s voice. Juno could imagine his face vividly – bright, warm eyes, that one curl that kept falling out of place. Juno suddenly wished he’d made a video call instead. But there was something comforting about just letting his voice sink in. “How nice of you to call.”

“Well when you leave a lady such a nice cryptic message, how could I not?”

“Right. Right! Yes, I wanted to speak to you in person about… all this,” he said in a rush, with a nervous chuckle. “Perhaps, over dinner? Tonight? If it’s time sensitive, that is, or we could meet some other—”

Juno opened his mouth to cut off the poor man. This was business, not a date. And they should be talking about this kind of sensitive stuff in private. Like at his office. But Juno then made the mistake of looking around his office, at the drab, dingy, hopeless mess he worked in. And he panicked.

“Dinner is fine,” his mouth said before his brain could object. And object it did. “Great, actually. I’ve got a meeting with a client but… I’ll be free. After that.” Dammit Steel.

There was a shrill gasp from the doorway, where Rita was beaming with barely restrained glee. Hell she looked like a kid who’d gotten two cakes for her birthday. Juno leapt for the door panel and shut it in her face.

“Excellent. Shall we meet at six? Unless your meeting devolves into say, some urgent car chase and a dramatic shootout with nefarious gangsters?” His tone was joking, but Juno frowned.

“… Maybe I should just text you when I’m done.”

Nureyev laughed. Juno’s chest tightened at the sound. It was just a cute laugh, objectively. Anyone’s heart would stutter at that the way Juno’s just did, really. The doctor cleared his throat. “Alright then. I, well I’m still rather new to town. I don’t suppose you have any recommendations?”

Juno rhymed off the name of a place he’d been to before for meetings. A nice little café, well kept but not fancy. Casual, really. And then he kept chatting with Nureyev for a bit after that. Because the doctor was a chatty guy and it always paid to stay in an informant’s good graces.

“Boss?” Rita poked her head in after he’d hung up, still grinning like the cat who caught the canary.

“What?”

“It’s cute you’re staring at the wall dreamily and all,” she sniggered.

“I am NOT—”

“But you’re about to be late for your other meetin’.”

“…  _ shit” _

* * *

Peter Nureyev was already at the café when Juno walked in. All six gangly, gorgeous feet of him, folded into a little table in the corner. Under the endearing tweed and the wire frame glasses and the finger swept hair, the man was too pretty. Nothing good ever came from someone who looked like that. In Juno’s experience they were all screen stars, and all stars in Hyperion were utterly bloodthirsty. Or the target of a bloodthirsty understudy.

But, the doctor wasn’t from Hyperion. From the few interactions they’d had he seemed…genuine. He had gone into xenoarchaeology, not showbiz. And on the outer rim, where anything human was either too new or too destroyed to be history. So he’d specialized in alien ruins, which had made him a perfect contact for the Kanagawas when they’d dug up their death mask. Nureyev was a big name for the academics, a mysterious no-name for your average Joe Viewer, and a tall glass of water for anyone with eyes. He was so perfect, Cecil had apparently proposed.

Right now, he was stacking and restacking a folder full of papers, rubbing at his leg and letting air into the prosthetic, putting about a dozen sugar packets into one of two steaming mugs on the table. And when he looked up and saw Juno across the room he brightened. He even stood from his seat as Juno walked over and pulled out the other chair for him.

Juno eyed him. “I can manage, Professor.”

“Right, sorry. And I, I told you, I don’t—"

“Don’t actually teach, yeah I remember.” Juno slouched back in his seat and smirked. “It’d help if you didn’t have chalk on your cheek,  _ doc _ .”

Nureyev’s eyes went wide. He swiped at the white spot on his bronze skin, and smiled sheepishly. “A busy day at work. I’m surprised you recognize chalk.”

“You aren’t the only one who likes to write things out by hand.” Add that to the list of reasons why Juno liked the guy. He cleared his throat. “So, you had information for me?”

“Oh! Yes, of course.” Nureyev’s eye got that gleam to it. Juno settled in for a lot of exposition as the doctor started digging through his papers. He dragged the mug left for him over but, ug, it was tea, not coffee. He started grabbing sugar as the doctor cleared his throat. “I’ve been looking into missing Ancient Martian artifacts on my own, a bit, well, in between verifying the Asteroidal relics for the Museum and then dealing with the frogs, but—that, um. That’s not actually important. The problem,” he sighed, “is that any Martian relic fancier than a, say clay pot, gets immediately covered up.”

“Even on the Museum’s end?”

Nureyev handed over a stack of photocopies. “There are records of excavations of course, but most details have been… redacted.” Every page of handwritten notes had redacted information on it, long stretches of black ink obscuring the text. Even the photograph printouts had blank spots in red sand where artifacts should have been sitting. “The rich who found anything interesting, themselves or at auction” he spat out that last word “have been rather selfish with their finds, evidently. Even one excavation that the city of Olympus Mons covered up itself. Rather brutally, I will say. Poking at that file got my computer several viruses.”

“Did you check the originals?”

“Those  _ are _ the originals. I crawled through the archives for them myself. Hooligans keep taking bribes to take black markers to the  _ original journals _ . They corrupted the digital logs, the videos. Field notes and documentation, all destroyed! The only way  _ anyone _ can hope to learn about these finds is if someone turns it into a primetime special and,” he floundered, gesturing angrily, “milks the spectacle for creds.”

Juno gave him a flat look. “Welcome to Mars, Professor.”

Nureyev huffed out a breath, running his fingers through his hair. “Yes. Charming place, truly.”

“You should see it in the spring. The solar radiation really brings out the desolate wasteland.

“Mm. Perhaps I’ll bring my watercolours.”

“Oh you paint?”

“I—well. No.” Nureyev went a little red, and looked away quickly. “The point is it’s all. Rather frustrating.”

“Mm hmm.” Juno flipped through the printouts again. Peter had left a few notes in the margins. Probably. His handwriting was a mess, they could have just been doodles. “I’ve pretty much found the same.”

“You…what?” Nureyev blinked, squinted at Juno. “You looked into this yourself.” A sigh. “Of course you did”

“Makes it harder for people to lie to me,” Juno said with a smirk.

Nureyev leaned back, glaring, a small grin of his own threatening his frown. “In that case, dinner is on you.”

Juno snorted into his mug. “Order the lobster then. The destroyed originals are disappointing, though. So much for getting ahead of whoever is killing for these.”

“I know. I’ve compiled a list of as many redacted digs as I could, regardless. Was even able to match some of them to the heists we know of already—the throne, the key, the pill… But we will have to find the people still alive who actually worked on those digs and convince them to speak to us to get anything more, which will be tedious.”

“Us?”

The doctor went very red. “W-well, I… Yes. Yes,  _ us _ .” He drew himself up, affronted. “If anything I’m more involved than you are.”

Juno scoffed. “Is that so?”

“Someone used me to steal the Death Mask! My professional reputation was threatened, still very well might be! I have to see this through.”

“So you’re an amateur detective now?”

The doctor leaned forward, a challenge in his eyes. “I’m a researcher,  _ Detective _ . I’m already a sleuth.” 

Juno couldn’t help it—he laughed. “Good answer.” Juno spread the papers out across their table and stared at them. “Can’t believe I’m babysitting the professor now.”

“Beg pardon?”

“I said got any names for me? Excavators, grad students, other xenoarchaeologists?”

Nureyev frowned at him for a second longer, glasses sliding down his nose. Then he pulled out another stack of papers—title page after title page, all for articles on the ancient martians, all with one author in common.

“Doctor Miasma,” Juno read. “PhD, MSc, M.O.U.S.E….”

“Cute. She is THE expert on this red rock of yours. If she’s not one of the authors, then she takes up half of a paper’s reference section, minimum.”

Juno hummed. “Sounds promising. Unless she’s such a big name that the people behind this don’t want that kind of attention so they avoided her completely. But creds to crullers it's such a small field she may know something. Might even be involved, or being watched.” He worried at his lip. “We should be careful about talking to her.”

Nureyev clearly hesitated. He shrugged one shoulder, and pointedly did not look him in the eye. “Oh. Alright, but, well you see—"

“Oh you did not.”

“Well—"

_ “You talked to her already??” _

The doctor winced. “I… only left a message. I’m a colleague, she’s more likely to speak to me than some detective sniffing at her door. No offense.”

Juno ran his hands down his face and groaned. He counted to ten, sighed. “Okay if you want to keep working this with me, fine—” Peter brightened like the first rays of sunrise, and Juno had to cling to his irritation, reigning in his feelings like a runaway horse “—BUT you have to be more careful! People have died over this, understand?

“Yes, Detective.”

“Quit smiling. And no more contacting suspects without me, okay?”

Peter held out an elegant hand. “Absolutely.”

“I’m serious.”

“I take my work very serious.”

Juno rolled his eyes, but shook the hand anyway. Nureyev’s lips curled wickedly at the edges. The smug bastard.

The doctor’s hand was warm. Soft, save for a callus on his index finger tickling Juno’s wrist. Probably got it from going over paper copies of everything, using trowels and brushes or whatever the tools of his trade were. Had a strong grip, too. They were good hands, Juno thought. Probably good at a lot of things. And then he realized how long he’d been holding Nureyev’s hand, and let go.

Juno cleared his throat. “So is that it then? Short of shaking down the archaeology department at the university, we’re stuck till Miasma calls back?” He slipped his hand under the table, trying to flex out the feeling of Nureyev’s fingers on his.

“Not quite. All that was technically a tangent, I, well, realize now. I actually called you over this.” And he pulled out his comms. On the screen there was a picture of a cut diamond the size of the hand holding it.

“Nice rock. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“It’s another ancient artifact. Just, one that completely slipped through my search net the first few times. It’s almost funny – the problem is that there is disagreement in the literature over the name of it, which makes trying to read up on it a complete nightmare. And, apparently, it is such a violent disagreement that when I asked my colleagues about it they said never to mention it out loud, there is still structural damage to the building from the last argument. Decades ago.”

“Leave it to stuffy academics to start a fight over a translation.”

“Oh no, much pettier. When they dug it up they disagreed over naming rights. Could not agree on what genera of octopi to name it after; Cirroteuthis, Cirrothauma, Opisthoteuthis or Stauroteuthis—” Juno inhaled his tea “—among a few. It’s been almost a century and still - oh! Are you alright?”

“Are you telling me they name Martians after earth fish??”

“W—uh more, snails than fish, but. Yes? I mean we can understand the hieroglyphics, but we have no idea how to pronounce their words. Or if they even spoke out loud. And actually based off Saffron’s pill I’ve started to seriously doubt if they even used acoustic communication at all—but, that’s not the matter at hand. I…” He paused, squinting at something over Juno’s shoulder. “Detective, isn’t that your secretary over there? In the… fake moustache?

Juno whirled to look and. Yep. There she was. Frantically pulling her book up to look like she’d been reading it and Not staring at them this whole time. The guy in the fedora at the table beside her looked very confused.

Juno Steel glared at Rita with every ounce of grouch in his stout body. Peter Nureyev waved at her. Rita slunk over.

“Whaaaaaaat Mistah Steel? And the nice doctor man?” she cooed, pulling off the bad disguise. “You’re havin your date here? Gosh what a small world, ain’t it?”

“Not a date,” Juno growled.

Peter smiled at her. “Just a business meeting. Between  _ partners. _ Please, join us.” He gestured to the empty seat at their table and gave Juno that pointed little smirk of his. Juno glared back, with a smile, despite himself. And when Rita hip checked him out of his seat, he wondered if his pride could take claiming it was a date just to make her leave them alone.

“Wooooow boss, a business meetin without your secretary, your dear ole’ Rita?” She leaned in conspiratorially to Nureyev. “Must be one special meeting.”

“Since you’re  _ here, _ ” Juno grit out, “you might as well pitch in. Flip through the pages, see if anything jumps out at you.”

“So sorry about the mess here, Miss Rita, I didn’t —”

“Ain’t no problem, Mistah Doctor, this is about how I organize the office. And while I’m at it, you can go get me a refill on my soda, Boss.”

“Why do I have to get them?”

“Because I’m chargin this as a business expense.

“Wh — Rita!”

“Oh I am so sorry! Mistah Doctor Nureyev would you like a refill too?”

Nureyev, very heroically, leaned into his hand to try and smother his laughter. “That would be lovely, thank you,” he said. Unfortunately for Juno, Peter did it without really moving, looking up from under his lashes and very much still smiling.

Juno almost dropped his own cup.

The detective grumbled something, probably nonsensical, he wasn’t really able to pay attention. But Rita pushed him away and refused to hear a word of it. He grumbled the entire way to the counter, far enough even he couldn’t hear Rita’s stage whisper. Which was surprising, since people on earth could hear Rita’s stage whisper. No matter how much Juno told her to turn up her hearing aids. It really was just her natural volume.

* * *

_ “Sorry I really didn’t mean to interrupt your date, Mistah Doctor Nureyev.” _

_ “Oh of course not, just spy on it?” _

_ “Well it’s excitin is all! It’s been a while since Mistah Steel went on a date with a nice fella like you!” _

_ “Oh?” _

_ “Yeah! He usually ends up with real dangerous ones, mobsters kids and celebrities with prices on their heads or an understudy gunning for em and this one dancer who turned out to be an assassin. You’re a real nice change o’ pace.”  _

_ “I… didn’t realize he had such a type.” _

_ “No it’s a good thing that you’re so different from his usual type! Nice and safe and plain _ .”

Juno returned to the table, just in time for:

“Not that you aren’t, uh, great! I mean bein a treasure hunter and all is real excitin, what with solvin ancient riddles and jumpin through deadly traps and out runnin’ giant carnivorous boulders and—”

“Rita!”

She winced and turned to him, mouthing  _ ‘sorry boss’ _ . Nureyev stared down at his hands, now very still, fingers fanned out over his notes. “That’s all fantasy, really,” he said quietly. “Stream nonsense.”

“Nureyev –”

“Oh, Detective I’m terribly sorry,” Peter said, glancing suddenly at his watch. Fumbling with his overcoat, his briefcase. Looking anywhere but at them. “I completely lost track of time. I have quite an early day, tomorrow, you understand…”

“Oh! Uh, yeah. Sure.” Juno just watched Peter gather himself, feeling more than a little out of the loop. And absolutely no idea how to start unravelling it.

Nureyev swept all his papers into one messy pile and stood, clutching them to his chest with his briefcase dangling from his arm. But he paused. Took a deep breath. “Detective, if I may… I… If someone is killing people for these shouldn’t we just… let them have them?”

“Do you think they’re just going to open up their own museum, Professor?” Juno scrubbed a hand down his face. “These things are dangerous, and now in the hands of dangerous people. Someone has to stop them and, unfortunately for me, I’ve never been very good at letting people get away with things.”

Dr. Nureyev stared at him for a moment, face growing more red. He stared down at his shoes instead. “Right. Good evening, Detective,” he muttered, and left.

The door barely closed behind him before Rita gasped “I’m so sorry boss! I never meant to ruin your date!”

“It wasn’t a date, Rita,” he ground out. “It was a meeting with a consultant.” Juno really shouldn’t have been surprised Rita followed him and crashed this. In fact, it was so in character he wasn’t even all that mad about it. Getting cranky over technicalities wasn’t the most grown up move, but it was better than the way he felt lost in Nureyev’s wake.

“It coulda been, if Rita hadn’t opened her big mouth.”

“That’s not…” Juno just sighed and put his arm around her. She leaned into him, making what could only be described as a sad puppy noise.

And then a big lug in a grey fedora drove past the store front.

That same lug had stood up when Nureyev had and followed the doctor out the door.

And, had Juno caught him staring their way more than once during their meeting?

“Rita, turns out I’m going to have to go too.”

She perked right up. “Oh! Yes! Chase after him and take him in your arms and—"

“What? Nurey— No! I think I have a new lead.” He grabbed his comms off of the table and ran for the door. “I’m gonna need you to run a licence plate for me!”

“Wait! What are the numbers? Boss?”

_ “I’ll let you know when I catch up to him!” _

* * *

Juno sat in his car, staring at the alleyway he’d tailed the man in the fedora to. It was attached to a nice building. A building whose sign left a sinking feeling in his gut. Juno pulled out his comms and prayed to whoever would listen that it picked up.

_ “Hello?” _

“Hey, Professor, do you know anyone staying at the Hestia’s Arms hotel?”

_ “Wh—oh, very funny Detective.” _ The sound of Nureyev opening a door filtered through the speaker.

“Mind letting me in on the joke?”

_ “Congratulations, you’ve detected my hotel. Yes you are very smart. Was that all?” _

“That’s not—shit. You’re staying here?”

_ “Yes, it’s quite a lovely place. You should see the rooftop garden sometime—” _

“Are you there right now? Nureyev did you go straight there from the café?”

_ “Yes?” _ A sigh.  _ “Juno, what is this about?” _

“Get out of there.”

_ “What? Detective—” _

“Get out of there right now, Nureyev. Take the back stairs, don’t go for your car. I’m right outside, ok? Just get down here.”

_ “But, I—I only just got home.” _

“And someone followed you there,” Juno growled, even as he was getting out of his own car and making a beeline for the front entrance. Some traffic cop cussed him out as he ran across the street. “They’ve already racked up a body count taller than you trying to get what they want. So Get Out of There.”

_ “…O-oh.” _ He audibly gulped.  _ “Alright let me just grab my files and I’ll be right out.” _

“Leave it!”

_ “It will only take a second.” _

“Dammit Professor!” A honking car drowned out the rest of his curses, about stupid handsome idiots getting themselves into trouble. 

_ “I have important things here alright? I just… Oh. Oh dear.” _

A stone settled in Juno’s stomach. “What? What is it??”

There was a thud and a yelp and a clatter almost all at once.

“Nureyev?” No response. People were staring at him, but he didn’t care. “Peter!”

He raised a few affronted looks as he shoved his way through the front doors, and past the people in line at the front desk.

“I’m looking for someone,” Juno panted. “It’s an emergency.”

The woman behind the desk shook her head at him. “Then call the police, sir. I can’t just give out—"

“There’s no time! Doctor Nureyev, he’s six-one, medium brown skin, big glasses, slick hair and a tweed suit, prosthetic —”

“Sir we cannot tell —”

The other person behind the desk perked up. “Oh the cute guy in 1312?”

Juno took off to the elevators, leaving the woman to yell at her co-worker.

The thirteenth floor was all wrong. Clean, well lit, a parent trying to herd three singing kids into the elevator even before he could step out of it. Absolutely the wrong atmosphere for the anxiety curling through him.

The twelfth door was already unlocked. Juno pressed himself flat against the wall beside it, readied his blaster, and tapped the panel to open it.

The lug in the grey fedora was standing a straight shot from the entryway. Juno dropped him before he could even turn around. The detective crept forward, forcing his breath to stay even.

Papers were scattered everywhere, clothes and books too. Literally carpeting the floor. It looked like the office anytime Rita got a new hobby, and smelled about the same, but had more bodies on the floor than the office usually did. The big bruiser he’d just stunned, and—

“Nureyev!”

The professor was on the floor in the kitchen, staring at him with wide, scared eyes, wrists zip tied to the handle of the fridge. There was a nasty red mark at his temple, but he otherwise looked fine. He visibly relaxed at the sight of the detective, and smiled weakly. And then he started and hissed

“Behind you!”

Juno spun, blaster raised. He could have made that shot with one eye closed, but. But this new thug, standing in a doorway across the hall, was holding a lighter, flame burning, over the mess of papers. Which Juno now realized had probably been spread around on purpose. Including right under himself and Nureyev. And now that he thought about it he could smell something like Neptunian Moonshine splashed around. Strong and flammable as anything.  _ Shit _ .

“Drop me, Robin Hood,” Goon-number-two growled, “and I drop this.”

Juno growled right back.

He holstered his blaster.

They jerked their chin towards their fallen friend. “Take him to the balcony.”

“He’s like twice my size—”

“Did I stutter, Hot Shot?”

Juno could feel Nureyev’s gaze burning into his back. He closed his mouth.

Fedora was big but still somehow lighter than a Kanagawa Cameraman TM. Though, judo-tossing a monster was different than dragging dead weight across an apartment. Juno’s back was going to hurt like hell tomorrow. And his ankles—he kept slipping on all the paper on the floor.

Hestia’s Arms was in a multi levelled part of Hyperion, so being on the thirteenth floor didn’t mean they were  _ only _ thirteen storeys from the ground. And the professor’s apartment had a lovely view down through the spider webbing of street levels into the darkness below and all this to say Juno suddenly became very dizzy when he accidentally looked over the balcony rail. When Goony McArsonist ordered him back into the apartment he didn’t argue. 

They had him back up a ways from the windows, hands where they could see them. They sidled around him to the balcony doors, holding the lighter in front of them as a shield. Juno spent half a second trying to figure out if a blaster could shoot out a flame before deciding he couldn’t draw a gun before they dropped the lighter. He backed up until he could see Nureyev again, out of the corner of his eye.

“You got your friend. What’s the plan?” Juno asked. He was out of breath still but that hadn’t stopped his mouth before. “Got a set of wings I can’t see?”

That’s when a car pulled up to the balcony. Let it never be said Juno didn’t have a terrible sense of dramatic timing.

The goon grinned with a terrible glee. And dropped the lighter.

Flame erupted like sand from a burrowing-wyrm’s geyser. Juno leapt back with a yell, slipping and hitting the ground hard.

“D-detective?!”

“Here!” He crawled, basically throwing himself around the kitchen island to the doctor. The doctor who, thankfully, had been smart enough to kick away all the kindling from around himself while Juno had been busy with the goons.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t wild eyed and breathing heavily, trying desperately to pull apart his bonds. Juno pulled himself into a crouch, put himself between Nureyev and the growing flames. He slipped his fingers around the sharp edge of the zip-tie, breathed “3, 2, pull!”. It snapped under their combined strain.

Juno wrapped his arms around Nureyev, Nureyev threw his around Juno’s neck, and he hauled the doctor to his feet and practically dragged him out of the apartment. They stumbled out the door, coughing. Juno crashed into the hallway wall. Nureyev squirmed out of his grasp and dove for the fire alarm a door away.

Shrill ringing and red flashing of the alarm grated on Juno’s ears. The annoying “Fire, Fire, Fire” announced by the Fire Response Drones wasn’t helping either. But they flew past and disappeared into Nureyev’s apartment, so their sound got quieter.

Nureyev was starting to look a little dead eyed, so Juno gently took his hand and lead him away. And he was shaking too hard to take thirteen flights of stairs, so Juno bundled him into the elevator. You shouldn’t in a fire, he knew, but it had literally just started so he was risking it. He pushed the ground floor button and wrapped the doctor in his trench coat.

Nureyev grasped the edges, pulled it tight. Mumbled a thank you that had no breath to it. They were leaning into each other by the time they reached the lobby, and when the doors opened there were fingers in Juno’s hand already. He squeezed tight, switched to an arm around Nureyev when the stream of slow evacuees grew heavier.

Peter just pressed closer.

Sirens were echoing outside already. People were filling up the street, gawking above their heads – like it hadn’t occurred to them there would be an actual fire.

Juno led Peter towards his car. Stopped short as Peter twisted out of his grip to stare and Juno did too, but only a glance at the building.

Neon shone in Peter Nureyev’s hair and firelight on his glasses. From what Juno remembered of the doctor, he was rather nomadic. Meaning everything he valued in the galaxy had been with him in that hotel apartment, was now leaking out the window as smoke. And that loss, hell the fear from barely minutes ago too, it was all written on his face.

They stood there until the fire truck pulled up overhead. They seemed to wake Peter from his reverie. His gaze slid up to them, then he whirled to Juno.

“Detective, we have to get to the museum.”

“What?” Juno blinked. “Why?”

“Because, well… I took the Eye of Stauroteuthis.”


	2. the Heist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> censor warnings:
> 
> being held at gunpoint and threatened,   
> mention of an emotional breakdown at the end

“Left here.”

“I know how to get to the museum,” Juno muttered. He turned left. His crummy old car whined at the speed he was pushing it. He shifted up another gear anyway. “So either someone saw you stash this eye—”

“No one saw me.”

“I’m sure you thought so—”

“I am  _ certain _ , Detective.”

“No offense Professor, but you’re an archaeologist. How can…” There was a set to Nureyev’s jaw that made Juno hesitate. He swallowed down the hundred other questions buzzing around his head.  _ “Fine. _ Fine ok no one saw you. Which means they were probably after you just because you were poking around.”

“Which means we might still be able to retrieve the Eye before they do!”

Juno stared at the passing buildings, thinking. “Run past me how you are the only person in the entire  _ goddamn  _ galaxy who knows where this gem is?”

Peter folded and refolded Juno’s coat. “It’s as ridiculous as the rest of this entire planet. It still technically doesn’t have a name because no one could compromise, because of everyone’s damned ego’s and they kept suing anytime someone tried to label it and I believe sent a few assassins and, well… it rather slipped through the cracks. I found it unmarked and utterly lost, in a cellar with no light and no stairs, either, ‘on display’ in the bottom of a locked cabinet in the back of a disused bathroom with a sign on the door that read ‘Beware of Leopard’.”

Juno snorted and almost swerved out of his lane. “And you moved it? Sounds like it was pretty safe back there.”

“Not really, no. They’re about to start renovating that entire wing, it was in incredible danger of being tossed with the trash.”

“Still an impressive find Professor. You’ll have to tell me how you did it some other time.” 

Juno pulled up in front of the Museum, and they fell silent.

Nothing in Hyperion was ever truly ‘dark’, not even the lights inside the building. But for almost midnight, the place was pretty out. No signs of goons broken into the place, tearing it apart looking for some gem. Well, no sign of sloppy goons who would torch an apartment. But it was a big place, and luck was never really on Juno’s side. That’s why he had to be smarter.

“You can wait here, Nureyev.” The professor looked at him with wide eyes, then down at his hands, bunched in Juno’s coat. Still shaking. Juno, hesitantly, reached out and put his hand over Peter’s. Nureyev squeezed it back. “You can even keep the radio playing.”

“Is it that obvious I’m scared?”

“You almost got hurt. Actually, scratch that. You were hurt. Just tell me where it is, and I’ll snag it and be back here before you know it.”

Nureyev bit at his lip, sharp canines pulling at it. And he sighed. “I shouldn’t let you go in there alone.”

“This is my job, Professor.”

He exhaled shakily. “Let me rephrase – I won’t let you go in there alone.”

Juno felt something settle in his chest, heavy but warm. He was afraid to unpack what that was, but he liked the feeling of Peter’s hand in his. And then Peter got out of the car and started walking a little too confidently towards the museum. And suddenly Juno remembered.

“Wait, hold on—” he called after Nureyev. He grabbed his trench coat from the passenger seat and ran after the doctor. Though, he struggled to run and get into his coat at the same time. “You’re a goddamn civilian! Get back in the car.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve worked at this museum for four months now, I know it like the back of my own hand. It will be far more efficient if I lead you to it, we’ve not a moment to lose!”

Peter swiped a key card on the staff entrance door and punched in his code. But Juno slipped in front of him and blocked the path, arms thrown wide. “That’s not —”

“I know it inside and out and blind folded, the vents and private halls, all of it.”

“Wait why —”

“I am going with you and that’s final.”

“Look, we don’t have time to argue —”

“Good.” Peter ducked under his arm and strode in through the door.

“Hey!”

Juno only caught up to Doctor Long-Ass-Legs past the lobby because Nureyev had stopped and was frowning at the different hallways.

“If you were some mysterious murderous brute, would you take the direct routes or the more private staff halls?”

“Depends on if I’m in a hurry and know where I’m going. Don’t tell me it’s in your office.”

“Have some faith in me, detective.”

“Oh good —”

“It’s on display.”

“…its what.”

“Well it’s not like I put a label on it and wrote up a placard. It’s hidden in plain sight, of course.”

“Of  _ course _ .” Juno grumbled, more to himself. Then put on his big boy detective hat and stopped to think. “If there’s no way for them to know where you put it, then they’ll start in your office. And any exhibit you worked on, officially.”

“Good. That will slow them down once they get here.”

“Dangerous to assume they aren’t.”

“With our clear skies and you breaking every speed limit? I think we have time to spare.”

“And I’m starting to think you have a problem.”

Peter sniffed at him disdainfully and started walking again. And again, Juno had to jog to catch up. He was already speaking, as if Juno hadn’t had to run. “I only have the key to the building and my office, so we’ll have to clone a pass into the exhibition we need. And for that we must get to my boss’ office.”

“Not security?”

“I don’t know how to get into security’s system. I do, however, know my boss’ password.”

“Why?”

“De la Croix is a doddering old fool who uses the same four numbers for everything.”

Juno snorted. “Anniversary?”

“Year fae won a genius grant,” Peter said with the most put upon, world weary sigh Juno had ever heard. Suddenly he was glad he was his own boss. “You said any villains would head straight to my office?”

“Maybe.”

“Then we shall take the more private way.” He had led Juno through the shadows along the edges of hallways that felt more and more like back alleys until they reached one with a nondescript silver door. Nureyev popped off the faceplate of the touch pad beside it with far too little effort, and merely unscrewed a cap on an already cut wire. The door slid open for them. He swept an arm out dramatically for Juno to go first but froze and withered under Juno’s glare.

“Do that a lot, do you?”

“… They’re merely the maintenance halls, Detective. And I am an employee, so it’s not… really against a rule…”

_ “Why though?!” _

“I… If you must know I find crowds overwhelming, occasionally. It’s perfectly –”

Other voices came echoing down the marble halls. Peter looked at Juno with wide, scared eyes. Juno hustled them both through the door, and they forced it shut manually. Quietly as they could.

On this side of the door was a dingy staircase with a flickering bulb. Dr. Nureyev, the damn gazelle of a man, climbed the many, many flights with ease while Juno wheezed for breath behind him. When he reached the door of interest before the detective did, the doctor opened it and  _ walked right out. _

That motivated Juno right up the rest of the stairs.

This time he grabbed Nureyev by his tweed scruff. “What are you doing?!” Juno hissed.

“Scouting the way!”

“But I’m the one with the  _ gun _ , Professor.”

“And I’m the one with the _plan,_ _Detective!”_

“What about me says I’ll just let you go alone?”

“Your stomping gait and your chronic, grumbling narration.”

“Wh – hey!”

Peter started to walk again but Juno managed to squirm around him and block the narrow hall. “Detective—”

“Quit it!” Juno shouted, too loud. He didn’t care. “I don’t know what you think you’re going to prove here Professor – that you’re smarter, or not scared or  _ whatever  _ – but it won’t do anything for you if it just gets you killed! And then that will be on me, and I’ll have to live with it. No more making calls into my own investigation without me, and no running into rooms without me, ok? You made me promise to work  _ with _ you, you jerk. So do it or so help me, I will drag you out of here myself!”

Peter was reeling, shock naked on his face, cheeks growing red as his jaw closed with a click. He gestured mutely for Juno to go ahead of him, allowing the detective to draw his blaster and do a sweep of every corner as they turned it. They figured out a rhythm rather quickly, the doctor tapping on Juno’s shoulders to direct them. He stared down at his watch the whole while, not even looking at the maze of offices as he navigated them. Until he stopped, opened a closet, again without looking, and tugged Juno into it.

“The hall sweeper is about to go by,” he said quietly. “They have security cameras on them.”

“Huh,” Juno said, surprised and more than a little impressed. Juno had dealt with more than his fair share of consultants, many of them self-preening, self-aggrandizing experts with egos over inflated from all the letters they could attach to the ends of their signatures. But Nureyev was something else. “More than just a pretty face, clearly.”

“Beg pardon?

“I – I uh, said. You must spend a lot of time here. After hours. Or you just like to memorize things like floorplans and camera patterns for fun.”

“Maybe a touch of both.” Peter turned to him and smiled shyly. It was the first time he had since Rita had crashed their… meeting.

Juno was starting to feel warm. “How long do we have to stand here?” He tugged at his collar.

The bottom of the door was only just starting to show the light from the sweeper. “They’re rather slow, I’m afraid.”

They both picked that moment to adjust their positions, get more comfortable and… well suddenly they were awfully close. Close enough he could feel Nureyev’s breath against his face.

“I…” Peter bit his lip and started again. “I don’t think I thanked you, Detective. For saving my life, before.”

“It was nothing, really.”

“Well I certainly thought it was something.”

Juno chuckled. “You know what I meant. I’d do it again.”

“How lucky for me,” Peter breathed. Then he seemed to process what he said. His eyes went wide, and he turned to look resolutely at the door.

The light was just barely creeping across the door. They still had a while yet.  _ Don’t make it weird, Steel _ .

“Why’d you stop before leaving the apartment?” Damnit Steel. “Are you a ‘gotta grab everything’ kinda guy or just ‘something special’?”

Peter looked at him intensely and Juno winced. But before he could say sorry or change the subject – hadn’t decided which yet – Peter smiled sadly.

“My toolkit. Brushes, trowel, real leather wrapping. A gift from my mentor, for completing my first degree.”

“Oh.” Juno scuffed his shoe. “I’m… sorry.”

Peter nodded. Then that smile turned a little impish. “Also my passport… research, notebook, comms, my book, the reports my awful jerk of a boss wanted. My wallet if it was in reach.”

_ “Oh my God.” _

“Well I’ve learned my lesson now!”

Juno groaned and let his head hit the wall. They both snorted.

“… I did manage to save this,” he said softly. He held up his wrist, with its old, scruffy looking watch. “My father’s. I… I’m pretty sure.”

He ran his fingers around the edge of the watch face in a practiced motion, almost instinctive. And it seemed to calm him, somewhat. His posture straightened, his face relaxed. Watching him, Juno felt a phantom twinge in his own bicep, the one with the goddess Benzaiten tattooed onto it. When it came down to it, Juno knew next to nothing about the doctor. But there was something familiar here, in the way he carried a piece of his family around with him. Drew strength from it.

Peter met his eye again. “Detective,” he breathed. 

Juno swallowed. Peter moved closer, or, maybe Juno did. It was hard to tell. “Yeah, Doc?” Nureyev’s lips parted, like he was about to say something else… or, _do_ something else.

And then they were in total darkness. The sweeper had passed. 

Juno held his breath. Peter…

Peter opened the door. “We, um -” Nureyev cleared his throat, red faced, “- we are running low on time, I think.”

Juno deflated with a huff. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, oookay. Sure?” And he followed, dazed.

When Juno had picked the deadbolt to the department head’s office (after an argument over, of all things, which of them would do the picking) and they were safely inside it, he took his first real moment to relax all evening. He turned an appraising eye to the doctor. “You know, one day, Professor, you are going to tell me why a lanky academic is so good at moving unseen.” 

Nureyev looked up from his boss’ computer and gave a smirk in return. “Then you will have to tell me why you are so good at sharpshooting.”

Juno shrugged and moved to poke around the office. Now, he had never boasted his cleaning habits, but compared to this Dr. de La Croix, he was Marie Kondo herself. The walls space that wasn’t bookshelf was crowded with framed degrees and awards and newspaper clippings of stuff that wasn’t all that impressive, but fae sure were proud of them all. The desk and table and chairs were drowning in papers, maps and data pads. He made the mistake of poking a stack and just barely caught it all before it toppled over. Beneath were lost thumb drives and sticky notes and two rolls of archaeology tools. One was worn leather, with some loving message tooled into the casing. The other was sleek and stupidly fancy looking, probably top of the line. Probably never even used. Both had a layer of dust on them. “Boss doesn’t seem to do much fieldwork, does fae?”

Nureyev scoffed. “And ruin faer expensive manicure? Heavens no. I’m all but certain fae’s even forgotten how to conduct a dig.”

Juno doubted fae’d even notice if either kit went missing, even if this office wasn’t such a rat’s nest. “You probably could have just hidden the Eye in here.”

“That was plan C.”

“What was plan B?”

“Forge a replica. But there is a back order on the 3-D printer cartridge I’d need so that plan is running a tad behind.”

“…Wait, seriously?”

The computer chimed instead. “The key card is ready. We’ll be able to waltz straight into the exhibit now.”

Juno unclipped his blaster. “I’m really more of a Jitter-Bug dame myself,” he said, and Nureyev’s eyes sparkled with delight. “Shall we?”

Nureyev swept into a bow. “After you.”

* * *

Juno squinted at the sign above the exhibition hall door. “Hyperion Art and… Culture-technics? The hell does that even mean?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Who knows. They ought to outlaw managerial courses as unique degrees, honestly. If I have to hear one more –”

_ “Who’s there?” _

Juno froze at the distant call and footsteps echoing towards them. Peter, however, shoved him bodily through the door and pulled it shut between them. “Nunzio! What are you doing here so late?” Peter said brightly, distractingly. “Burning the midnight oil, you scallywag? Your work ethic is going to make us all look bad, I swear...” His voice faded out as he moved to intercept them safely away from the doors.

“Stupid pretty bookworms,” Juno muttered to himself, adjusting his coat. And, knowing what a chatterbox Nureyev could be whenever his work came up, Juno figured it would be a while. So he did what he did best - poke around.

Front and center of the exhibit was a Nouveau Classical statue of, according to the plaque, the titan Hyperion. Carved from a slab of Martian marble and painted in metals so he shone, gems embedded everywhere they could make an excuse of it. The god of light really made the whole room glow, even in low light cycles. All done by hand too. Juno was impressed, but it just convinced him that artists really were masochists.

Beyond him were more statues, a garden of towering figures. One a fierce depiction of Mars, all bulging eyes and muscles, and two little feral looking kids that had to be Phobos and Deimos clinging to his ankles. Because what art exhibit would be complete without  _ another _ depiction of the planet’s namesakes.

A little ways further was a figure Juno recognized immediately. It was Juno, the goddess. 

She stood with one hand outstretched, the other curled and held high above her head, jewels and furs and feathers as offerings at her feet. There was a hologram projected over her that flickered; one second she was a radiant queen, with a crown and a gold scepter and holding some kind of. Little plate? The next she was a killer, big metal disc hanging off her arm and wielding a spear. Her crown was swapped for some animal onesie wrapped around her shoulders.

But it was the plaque that made him pause. When she was the queen,  _ Regina, _ it called her The Mother, the wife, the picture perfect queen with the reputation to uphold. He could scroll through all the stories where she screwed someone over for screwing her husband, for threatening her pristine little status quo.

But as the warrior, as  _ Iuno Curitis _ , she fought not to conquer, but for those in her care. She shielded her city (that big trash lid was supposed to be a shield?) from all who threatened those who couldn’t protect themselves, who relied on her.

Juno the detective remembered a moment, from the Kanagawa mansion:

_ “You ever actually look up the goddess, Nureyev?” _

_ “I  _ am  _ an archaeologist, Detective. But  _ please _ , by all means –” _

_ “She was a real piece of work, Professor. Had a mean streak a mile wide and a nasty habit of killing her kids.” _

_ “… She was also a guardian, if I recall. The goddess of protectors, and defender of her city. You seem to take after that aspect, at the very least. F-from what I’ve seen so far.” _

Juno Steel watched the goddess cycle between her aspects for a moment more. She was pretty. She was strong.

She was staring at him. He was having trouble looking away.

The door opened behind him. Juno would kick himself over what happened next for a long while to come: for not bothering to look away from the statue, for not noticing more than one set of footsteps, for tucking his goddamn hands into his pockets because it was cold while his blaster was all the way at his armpit. He was too slow on every count. What he  _ had _ done was start walking backwards towards Nureyev, eyes on the ground because he was slipping back into his own thoughts like his moods tended to. But talking to the professor would get him back on the case and the case would snap him out of it.

Well, walking backwards into the barrel of a blaster reached the same end, ultimately.

“Turn around slowly. And don’t try anything now, Cowboy. You’re smarter than that, right?”

Juno did. There were three now. The firebug from before and a squirrely looking guy in a museum lab coat had their guns on Juno. The third had Peter pinned, an arm around his throat and a blaster to his jaw. He wasn’t the guy Juno had stunned, so there were at  _ least _ four of these creeps. There was a light directly above them and it cast their faces in skull-like shadows. Juno swallowed.

“There we go,” sneered the one without the death grip on Peter’s windpipe. “You, lady, have been a real thorn in my side tonight. And you, Doc, have been sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, both of you been making a lot of stink for my boss. Now, we were only coming to steal all his notes so the boss could figure out what he’s been figuring out, but then we ran into you two here. And that makes me think there’s something you don’t want us to find. That sound right to you, Nunzy?”

“Yep,” answered the traitorous researcher.

Crap. There were decent brains in those thick skulls. At least one, anyway. Still more than he liked to be dealing with. Normally he’d make them suffer his wit, but with them between him and Peter, it wouldn’t be them suffering. So he stayed quiet.

The firebug smiled a shadowed, rictus grin. “So, you just hand it over to me, and I’ll let you both go free. Boss’ll be so pleased with us for getting something that wasn’t even on her list that she won’t even care we let you live. And really, that’s the only option where you make it into next week.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s this Boss of yours? Maybe I’d like to meet them.”

The leader sniggered. “No, you don’t. She’s like a summer sandstorm, Hot Shot. Once you’re in her path she don’t let up till you’re ground under her heel. And there ain’t no way out of her path. So you help us, and we’ll keep you out of her crosshairs. So, nice and carefully, give us the artifact.”

“What makes you think we even have anything?”

“Your boyfriend was sniffing around, asking a lot of questions, so I’ve heard. So you better give us something to walk away with.”

“We don’t have –” Nureyev tried to say. Till Not-Nunzio tightened his grip.

“You, shut up. You, hotshot, hand it over or we start making the pretty boy less pretty.”

Juno grit his teeth. “I don’t know where it is. Nureyev –” The lead goon rolled their eyes, swung their blaster arm and  _ fired _ . Juno yelled. Peter jumped as far as the strangle hold would let him, the hole in his shoe smoking. Juno felt sick as the acrid smell hit him – and then it  _ hit him _ . That was the prosthetic foot burning… or melting or whatever. Didn’t stop his heart from hammering a hundred miles an hour but he’d deal with that.

“Ug, what kind of cheap-ass shoes do you scientists wear?” The trigger happy leader pointed their gun back at Juno, and covered their nose with their free hand. Peter wasn’t hurt but he was shaking. The goons didn’t know the difference. Juno was okay with that. It was about the only thing they had going for them. “I’m serious. If I hear another word out of either of you before I see the prize I’ll drop you both and call it a loss. Now, Cowboy. I won’t ask again.”

Juno…

Juno didn’t know. And this Yuck wouldn’t let him goddamn ask and there were a thousand nooks and crannies and shiny goddamn things in here and it’d take him a million years to look even if he didn’t have Nureyev’s life on the line, Nureyev who wouldn’t even look him in the eye…

No – Nureyev looked at him as steadily as he could, pinned by someone shorter than he was and goddamn terrified. And then he very pointedly looked behind Juno, again and again.

_ Dammit Detective, quit wallowing and do your goddamn job. _

Juno, hands where they could see them, turned, and walked to the statue of his namesake.

_ Nureyev, _ he thought to himself with soft, tired fondness,  _ you goddamn sap. _

The Eye was at Juno Curitis’ feet. The rough, transparent snowball from the picture was a fist-sized hunk of clear crystal, un-cut and a little bit purple. The Professor had placed it under a peacock feather and against glass costume jewels that sparkled with it in the light. It was heavy. It was warm.

Juno walked it back but stayed out of reach. He held it up and Peter’s  _ bodyguard  _ whistled.

“Nunz, is that the real deal?”

The researcher reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of printouts, tucking his blaster away to leaf through them properly. He was looking between Juno’s hand and the pages so fast Juno would have worried for his neck if he didn’t hate the guy. Eventually Nunzio pulled one out, squinted, and gaped. “Holy fuck, he found the Heart of Cirroteuthis.”

The leader frowned. “Is that any good?”

“Uh… probably? I’ve never been able to track research on it long enough to –”

“Oh my god I don’t care. Hand over the rock so the nerd can make sure it’s real and I can go home.”

Juno grit his teeth. “Let Nureyev go first.”

“No way –”

“You still have your guns, just let him go. He’s starting to turn blue.”

Leader pursed his lips then shrugged. Lug-number-three let go of Peter and shoved him forward. Juno caught him, let Nureyev pretend to lean on him as an excuse to get his hand closer to his own blaster. Peter took shaky steps behind Juno, rubbing at his neck. Juno could hear his breath wheezing. 

Nunzio used his free hand to dig a magnifying glass out of a pocket, stepping just a touch more between the guns and their targets.

“Alright you got your boyfriend back. Now hand over the –”

Juno threw it at Leader’s face and drew his blaster, and in the same breath blasted one of the lights. A shower of sparks and exploded glass rained over the goons as Nureyev dragged Juno around another statue. Peter pointed at a junction box, high up and tiny on a far wall. Juno nailed it in one, and Peter grabbed his hand. The entire floor exploded into darkness as they ran.

Behind them were voices yelling.

Around them was pitch darkness.

Peter changed his grip, so he had Juno’s entire arm wrapped with his, fingers twined together. Every pause and turn, Juno felt without any need for words. When the light of a comms swung into their path, Peter changed direction and slipped them behind something big and light blocking, without Juno’s usual ‘stumble blindly into the guy you’re following’ schtick. They slipped into a hallway without so much as a scare. They snuck out of the building, through the shrubbery and into Juno’s car without a single alarm.

They made it to the freeway before Peter broke down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEs, i chopped off the last bit and it will become an epilogue. it just needs some more polish than the rest of this part and possibly its own scenes plural, so i'll try to make it worth the wait. more fluff than just a cliffhanger i promise, even though this was supposed to be like a fake episode but where's the fun in that right?
> 
> for bonus points can you spot the two nerdy references?

**Author's Note:**

> peter's exposition was supposed to be a lot shorter but we are both nerds and just. could not. stop talking lmao. part two just needs a tad more polish to make it shine and can be up soon.
> 
> cw for part one are:  
> bad guys tailing our heroes, breaking into their hotel rooms, attacking and restraining, and arson while people are still inside but everyone survives i promise.


End file.
